


Lightning Bolts and Jack-O-Lanterns

by olivebranchesandredwine



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Canon Queer Relationship, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Patrick Brewer is Thirsty, Pumpkins, it would be if Schitt's Creek had autumn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-06 02:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivebranchesandredwine/pseuds/olivebranchesandredwine
Summary: 🎃 David and Patrick carve a pumpkin. 🎃





	Lightning Bolts and Jack-O-Lanterns

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Schittscreekspookyseason](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Schittscreekspookyseason) collection. 

> **Prompt:**  
Pumpkin carving!

“You’ve _never _carved a pumpkin?” David doesn’t know why Patrick sounds so surprised. That’s the sort of thing his family paid other people to do when he was a kid. Besides, it looks…_messy_. He eyes the dirt-crusted orange monstrosity in Patrick’s hands dubiously.

David still isn’t quite sure how something like _that_ is transformed into pie and basic bitch lattes, which, granted are delicious, _thankyouverymuch. _But Patrick was so excited to see pumpkins at the farm stand that David decides to humor him. How bad can carving a pumpkin be?

🎃🎃🎃

The answer, David soon learns, is bad. _Very disgustingly bad._

They’re in Ray’s kitchen, where Patrick has covered the entire table with old newspapers, and is currently in the preliminary stages of pumpkin carving.

“You want me to _what? _In _this_ sweater? I think _not!_” David can’t hide his disgust as he watches his boyfriend’s toned forearm disappear into the pumpkin’s gaping maw, then reemerge with a handful of stringy, russet-colored goop.

“What the fuck is_ that?_” Patrick’s laughing at him now, and no_. _Just…_no. _In no way would any reasonable person expect David to put his _hands _in _there, _to touch _that. _No. There are things David will do for his boyfriend, and there are things that should be fired into the sun, never to be spoken of again. And this whole ordeal, David decides, has landed firmly in column number two.

“Come on, David. It’s fun,” Patrick teases, his eyes gleaming like a kid let loose in a toy store. He’s still holding a glob of pumpkin innards in one hand, while his other arm is elbow-deep in the offending gourd, tugging out another handful. He turns and leans his head back so that he can kiss David’s cheek.

Before his common sense has a chance to stop him, David is leaning into Patrick’s kiss, turning his face so that their lips can meet, and sliding his arms around Patrick’s neck. Patrick responds by snaking his free arm around David’s waist, drawing their bodies closer together…with the hand that is full of pumpkin guts. _Not. Fucking. Correct._

“Patrick Brewer!” David brings both hands to Patrick’s chest and abruptly pushes him back. “This is _Prada!_” he snaps over his shoulder as he scurries off to the washroom to investigate the damage.

“Seriously, David? I didn’t even _touch _you with my pumpkin hand,” Patrick calls after him, sounding way too amused for David’s liking.

After a few desperate twirls in front of the mirror, David is satisfied that his sweater is, at least for the moment, pumpkin-free. But who knows how long it will stay that way, if his troll boyfriend has anything to do with the situation. David grasps the delicate cashmere by the bottom hem and gingerly lifts it over his head. He then folds it carefully and places it on top of his bag. While he would prefer that _none _of his wardrobe get ruined by the goo from inside a pumpkin, he’ll gladly sacrifice a plain white undershirt to save Prada cashmere.

When David returns to the kitchen, Patrick is still scooping stringy bits out of the pumpkin, which he’s now spread out onto the newspaper next to the pumpkin.

“Will we get to the carving at _some point _tonight, or is that going to be an exercise for a later date?” David huffs as he crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorway. “Because I’m getting kind of bored.” OK, maybe he’s being a brat, and certainly deserves the irritation he hears in Patrick’s voice, but he’s starting to get hungry, and maybe a little grumpy that Patrick’s hands are elbow-deep inside a gourd instead of—well, instead of doing other things they could be doing in a Ray-free house tonight.

“You said we could—” Patrick’s voice catches in his throat as he turns to face David and sees him standing there, the thin white fabric of his shirt pulled taut against his chest. “Wow.”

David watches in delight as the flush rises from Patrick’s chest and spreads across his cheeks. His lips twist hard to the left as he tries to rein in his smile. “You doing ok there, Patrick?”

Patrick swallows hard, his gaze fixed on David’s chest. “Wh-what?”

“You seem a little…distracted,” David drawls, quirking an eyebrow up in amusement as he saunters toward the kitchen table. “See something you like?”

For a moment, Patrick stands helpless, eyes darting between his pumpkin-covered hands and the sexy man standing before him.

“David?” His voice is strangled and low as his boyfriend’s name rolls off his tongue. In those two frantic syllables are a request, an apology, desperate plea, all wrapped in one. David lets the grin spread wide across his face as he closes the distance between them, gives a wordless nod of assent as Patrick’s eyes meet his.

“Fuck, _David!_” Patrick is on him like a man possessed, gliding pumpkin-covered hands across the broad muscles of David’s back and pulling him in close for a kiss. David moans as Patrick’s tongue teases his bottom lip, then slips into his mouth, and suddenly he can’t remember why that goop seemed like such a big deal in the first place.

“God, you’re so good at this,” David murmers against Patrick’s lips as they come apart, his voice thick and smooth like dripping honey before Patrick surges forward again, licking into David’s mouth with greater intensity, seeking out new destinations to explore and claim as his own. David envelops Patrick in his arms, pressing their bodies together from shoulder to hip, then widening his stance to slot a thigh between Patrick’s. David slowly rocks his hips to brush himself against Patrick's erection, offering them both just the slightest bit of friction as they kiss, their mouths a give and take of tongues gliding, lips sucking, the gentlest of nip of their teeth. He begins to trace a path down Patrick’s arms with his fingertips, drawing the tiniest of whimpers from his boyfriend’s throat with the delicate touch. They continue to kiss, their tongues dancing in a slow and lazy rhythm. Patrick presses himself impossibly closer against David’s body, sighing happily into David’s lips as David grazes his fingers down Patrick’s bare forearms.

When his fingertips finally reach Patrick’s hands, David is greeted with the undeniable reality of pumpkin guts.

“Gross,” David gags at the goopy strings dangling from in-between Patrick’s fingers, and immediately steps back, away from possible contamination by pumpkin gut strings, and shudders violently as though to shake off any metaphysical remnants of the pumpkin guts from his body and his psyche. Patrick stumbles forward, jarred by the abrupt departure as David rushes to the sink to wash his hands.

“I’ll just be…in here,” David says as he hurries toward the living room. “Let me know when you’re done with the gross part!”

🎃🎃🎃

Eons later, Patrick has finally finished with what he assures David is the grossest part of the carving and convinces David to return to the kitchen.

Patrick scowls as he looks at the designs David has sketched out for the pumpkin. “Uh, David, that scrollwork may be just a touch beyond my carving capabilities. Do you have anything…I don’t know, a bit simpler than a Venetian mask?”

Now it’s David’s turn to scowl in frustration. “Well, if it’s going to fit my aesthetic, it’s going to need _something _catchier than a silly smiley face.” He mutters to himself as he thumbs through his designs, pausing ever so often to frown at the pumpkin and then back down at his notebook.

Suddenly, Patrick’s eyes grow wide and a smile spreads across his face. “Gimme just a second,” he says, and dashes into the front room office. When he returns a few minutes later, he’s holding a sheet of paper curled up in his hands, looking a bit anxious, a bit bashful.

“Ooookay, so what it is?” David’s curiosity is piqued, and he’s only moderately concerned that whatever Patrick’s holding will be too…corporate or fratboy for his brand.

Patrick doesn’t meet his gaze, and begins to stammer out an explanation as he unrolls the paper to reveal a simple outline of a lightning bolt. “It’s got straight lines that I can probably do and well, it reminds me of you because of that sweater you were wearing on your birthday—”

David cuts him off, smiling into the kiss that interrupts his boyfriend’s adorable stammering. “It’s perfect.”

Patrick grins up at him, dazed from the kiss, proud that he’s made David emote. David is suddenly much more interested in pumpkin carving.

“Now, what do we do next?” They sit down at the table and get back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> A hearty thank you to all the beautiful, intelligent, and compassionate souls at the Rosebudd who have helped me turn a hyper fixation into a community.


End file.
